


everything you love is just well arranged dust

by sheehan_film



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Faith, M/M, New York City, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Reunions, mattfoggy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheehan_film/pseuds/sheehan_film
Summary: as the threat of thanos and his army looms closer to hell’s kitchen, matt decides that he was to go help. that is, until something impossible happens to foggy.





	everything you love is just well arranged dust

“everyone else is out there, foggy.”  
the quiet of the apartment was a stark contrast from the hellish state outside. everything felt more muted here. maybe even safer.  
“i know, but…” foggy’s hand was at the back of his neck. he was hesitating.  
“what?”   
“you’re a street-level vigilante, matt! what are you supposed to do against an army of intergalactic psychos? backflip into them?”  
matt sighed. of course foggy was right-he could hear the uneasiness in his friend’s tone. but matt owed it to hell’s kitchen and everyone in it to try.   
“i’m sorry. i can’t just sit here and wait for other people to fight my battles for me.”   
foggy shook his head; his rage was quite nearly palpable. “what am i supposed to tell karen when you don’t come back, huh? that i couldn’t convince my own best friend to lie low, just this once?”  
“people are dying everywhere right now. the least i can do is keep this neighbourhood safe.”   
matt secured the cloth over his head, tying it in the back. it was now or never.   
as he turned to go, he felt foggy’s hand on his shoulder.  
“be careful, please. karen and i need you.”  
something in the air shifted just then. it’s like the atmosphere got thicker.   
a confused, sharp inhale cut through the brief silence. matt turned, his radar sense picking up something that didn’t quite make sense.  
foggy was disintegrating.   
his heartbeat increased rapidly, but as the man swung out his arm to try and hold onto matt-  
there wasn’t really any arms he could use.  
“what’s happening?”   
matt didn’t know, but the realization that his best friend was about to disappear into thin air hit him like a freight train. “buddy, it’s gonna be okay, just...just…”  
one stifled sob echoed through the room. it was the last thing foggy ever did.   
the space in front of matt was cloudy; he coughed, choking on a fine substance. when he extended his fingertips to where his best friend had just stood, they made contact with nothing.   
it was as if foggy nelson had never existed.  
matt dropped to his knees, hands shaking as they met small piles of human ash, of the man he had sworn to always keep safe.  
the particles of it filled the air with a suffocating stench, and this made it harder to tell if his eyes were watering or if he was crying. the latter was confirmed as his entire frame began to tremble and he slumped over, unable to get himself on his feet.  
waves of the chaos from outside filtered in.  
it was throat-ripping screams, people stampeding down the hot pavement.   
“where did-”  
“oh fuck, oh my god-“  
“somebody help, please-  
the mechanical blaring of matt’s phone was the only thing that brought him back.  
karen. karen. karen.  
he scrambled to get the device out of his back pocket because his entire body was shaking so much.  
“hello? k-“  
“matt? oh, thank god.” her words were hard to make out with how heavily she was bawling. “are you...are you okay? there’s car crashes everywhere. my cab driver, he...matt, he disappeared right in front of my face.” the tone of karen’s voice shifted between a whisper and hysterical yelling.   
matt found himself at a loss for words.  
“where’s...oh my god, please tell me foggy’s not-“  
there was nothing for him to say to karen. the other half of nelson and murdock was a clump of gray dust in matt’s palm.   
“i don’t know what to do, karen.” his voice broke. “i lost him.”  
~  
he tried throwing himself into the vigilante shit.   
it was pointless; the world was upside down, and there weren’t so many criminals now. everyone was just trying to get by.  
law? forget it.   
foggy was gone. it had been almost three months now. hell’s kitchen was no longer a neighbourhood but, instead, one huge funeral wake. the entire city felt like that.   
people buried jars of ash.  
karen had put foggy into a glass bottle, but matt asked that she leave him on the windowsill. he didn’t want to put his best friend underground.  
the world tried moving forward-hell, matt applauded them-but he couldn’t. he was probably the first murdock that just...couldn’t get up.  
the only place he could manage to go was fogwell’s gym. most of the staff and other people that had once gone there were dusted, too.  
he didn’t go to church. there was nothing that he owed god anymore.   
maybe this was purgatory. maybe he was in a coma.  
more than anything, he wished he wasn’t here. at least, if he had taken foggy’s place, karen would have someone who could console her and make sure she was okay.  
matt couldn’t provide anything for her except blank expressions and lackluster replies. he’d forgotten what people were supposed to do when they were grieving.   
he’d take a swig of whatever was in the fridge like he used to do before stitching up his dad. it’s not like he could manage to eat anything these days.  
the anger and bitterness of all of it would boil up sometimes and he would punch a wall or slam a glass down. fresh lacerations and bruises were the only indication that any of this was reality.  
~  
a year went by, day by numbing day.  
karen tried everything to get him out of his apartment. and now he was going to, but not in a way that karen was going to endorse.  
matt floated along, mostly. his life morphed into one excruciatingly long day with periods of sleeping and throwing his fists into a punching bag to break it up.  
now he was going to do something with it. he might end it in the process, but he didn’t care much anymore.  
the black vigilante suit waited, neatly folded up and stored away. matt begrudgingly put it on, smoothing out the creases.  
his stomach growled, pleading for something of actual substance to eat. he ignored it for, what, the third day in a row?  
all of the energy left in him was devoted to the gym and blocking out the world on the other side of his apartment’s walls. he didn’t want to take care of himself anymore.   
foggy would’ve wanted him to, but that was irrelevant now. his ashes sat glaring in the weak sunlight coming through the polluted sky.  
the night’s were cooler-matt left his apartment, a slight limp in his right leg. his ribs hurt, too.   
really, everything hurt, but he’d reached an expert level of tuning it out.  
he was neither in any shape to properly fight anyone or in the state of mind to. and yet, here he was, weaving his way through street lights and discarded boxes beside buildings.   
it was like he was trying to tease someone out of an alley or a beat up car. the devil of hell’s kitchen ceased to remain at the top of the food chain now.  
matt became so desperate for something to fracture, something to take his repressed grief out on that he went after the first person who smelled like trouble.  
to be fair, they were.   
he came up on them as they were breaking into an old subaru. from several strides away, he could feel them stiffen and reach for the blade in their sweatshirt.  
“hey, asshole. mind your own business.”  
the sound of a knife always hits the air differently, especially when matt was eager for a brawl.  
he approached the pointed end of the blade, zeroing in on it. lashed out at him like a viper, nearly got him.  
maybe he really was too off-kilter to fight.  
the next minute or so was a mix of dodging, lunging, daring this bastard to come at him.   
swing, miss.  
the knife slicing the molecules closest to his skin.  
swing, make loose contact, daze the opponent.  
there was an art to fighting, but matt had discarded it a long time ago.  
when he finally felt an area under his ribs burn and begin to ooze blood, that’s when he knew he was getting sloppy.   
it felt good to be in pain that wasn’t self-inflicted for once, though. this is probably what drove his dad to the ring.   
everything blurred for awhile but when matt focused again, the man was on the ground-not dead, but beaten to shit. all for trying to get into a car.  
it was an extremist move, one that matt knew he wouldn’t have taken before he lost the person that meant the most to him.  
grief works in mysterious ways.  
he staggered home, not remembering much before he fell asleep with a half-heartedly applied bandage. the wound wasn’t deep enough to mean anything other than a possible infection.  
months passed like this and karen stopped by less and less. she had told matt that he was going to get himself killed, that it’s not what foggy would’ve wanted him to do. as much as he loved karen, her inspirational speeches weren’t doing anything for him.  
months turned into another year, then two and so on. topical wounds turned into deep breakage that required stitches. two drinks turned into eight. a few hours of sleep into none.  
justice and fairness exchanged for a brilliant last attempt to feel anything other than the crushing weight of not saving foggy.  
matt was not much more than broken ribs and a lack of clear thinking the day that it happened.  
he felt a deep rumble through the springs of the old couch. it didn’t feel like an earthquake, though. something he couldn’t put his finger on.  
his head returned to its place on the arm of the furniture and he shut his eyes-they stung constantly and one was always puffier than the other.  
a heartbeat cut through the stillness of the late afternoon. matt’s breath hitched and he dug his nails into his palms.  
too many fists to the skull lately. too few meals and hardly any rest. he was imagining it.  
as it got louder, it also got harder to deny. but he didn’t move from his sprawled out state on the couch.   
he would not let his mind break him further. he would not let what he wanted most infiltrate into his lucidity.  
jesus, it was becoming unbearable.   
a shaky hand knocked one and a half times at his door. matt felt his stomach wrench so much that it pained him.  
the knock came again.  
“matt?” the voice was so god damn familiar, but he wasn’t going to let himself believe it. not after this long. not with the glass bottle on his windowsill.  
“matt, it’s...i don’t know what happened, but it’s foggy.”   
he had never stood up so quickly in his life. the walls closed in on him as he half-limped and half-sprinted to the door.  
please, please let it be him. please let this be real.   
he felt for the doorknob, trying desperately to still his bruised and battered hands. the door seemed to open in slow-motion.  
“hey, hey-“ the voice exclaimed gently. “christ, matt, what happened to you?”  
it was foggy. it was really, truly him.   
not a figment of his imagination, not a flashback he was having. no, this was his entire world right in front of him again.  
matt wasn’t processing anything for a minute.   
when he came to, his face was buried in foggy’s chest and he was weeping, his entire diaphragm fatigued from the energy it took for him to cry.  
arms wrapped tight around him-he didn’t even care that his ribs felt like they would break for a second time.  
they stood there for a long time, rocking back and forth slightly in each other’s embrace. the two of them were finally home, after five years of utter hell.  
“c’mon, hey,” foggy sniffled and laughed, urging matt to stand a little taller. “don’t cry. i was only gone a few hours. not sure where exactly but...what?”  
his expression must’ve given it away. “foggy, it was...it was five years.”  
silence fell over them. matt could sense that it was a lot for foggy to take in so he ushered the both of them weakly to the couch.   
“you and, well, from what we understand, uh, fifty percent of humanity got dusted. i-“ matt wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “karen put your ashes up by the window.”  
typical of foggy, he just replied “huh. that’s weird.”  
the normalcy of it made matt smile for the first time since he could remember. he couldn’t even begin to express how much it meant to have the person opposite of him on the couch back.  
“i didn’t think i was ever going to see you again”  
foggy pulled matt in carefully for another hug, taking note of the scars and bruises that he had gained in foggy’s absence.  
“i’m home now, okay? you’re not going to lose me again.”  
matt chewed his lower lip, fighting back an onslaught of tears again. it was hard to keep his voice steady.   
“it’s good to have you back.”  
“don’t get all soft on me now, murdock.” both of them started to laugh lightly. “you’ve gotta fill me in.”  
“i don’t know where to start.”  
foggy nodded, placing his hand on matt’s and patting it twice. “okay. you can tell me tomorrow. you look like you haven’t slept in months.”  
“well-“  
a chuckle echoed off the walls, one that this apartment hadn’t heard in such a long time.   
“go to sleep. i’ll be here when you wake up.”  
“you promise?”  
no hesitation. “i promise.”  
matt leaned his head into foggy’s shoulder, feeling safer than he had in his entire life.


End file.
